


About You

by NarutoDays (DAYS8)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Code Switching, Cultural References, Dialect, F/M, Historical References, NaruHina 2020, One Shot, Summer Vacation, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAYS8/pseuds/NarutoDays
Summary: A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM.A long bus ride into and out of town.Two teens, shy beside each other.Written for NaruHina 2020 August - Cultures/Around the World
Relationships: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 19
Kudos: 49





	About You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Torch Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/254991) by [emmykay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay). 



> Here we go, a story I've worked on since November of last year. Despite the months of creation, this story is simply boy meets girl.  
> This one is close to my heart, and I've second-guessed posting it.
> 
> It's loosely based on my parents' high school stories and how they met, and the experiences from many recorded accounts of people from that generation. I wrote this mostly with the intention of diving into and imagining their time period.  
> I've wanted to write a pidgin story since I read emmykay's NaruHina historical romance "Torch Song." Fanfics became a personal expression after I read that story :)  
> In the end notes, I'll put a couple of links and notes for language and cultural reference.
> 
> Please enjoy the NaruHina fluff!

The bus bumps and lurches on the potholes.

She notes when they pass by a friend’s house, lit only by the dim orange street lamps over dark driveways. There are so few cars out on the road that every time the bus pulls over and the door opens, she can hear the high-pitched hum of crickets in the grass. It’s all a familiar rhythm that might have put her to sleep on any other night. But she already took a long nap, readying her internal clock for the new schedule.

She’ll be taking this route for the rest of the summer, heading from the bus stop next to the local library straight to the cannery.

It feels alright, better than she was expecting. She was worried it would feel lonely--her friends are all working the cannery, too, but in the daytime. She wanted the extra nickel the night shift earns, bringing her up to $1.40 per hour. 

She’s always thinking ahead--the more money she manages to save now for business college, the less she will need to work later.

The bus slows down to a stop, picking up probably the last passenger before it gets on the freeway straight to town.

She relaxes into her seat, settling in for the drive out of the suburbs.

“Hinata?”

That’s weird that someone would know her at this hour.

She turns her face away from the window and sees _him_ standing in the aisle, as if he was about to sit down in the row in front of her. “N-Naruto?” She regrets her stutter. She just wasn’t expecting to see him. At all. 

“Hey! Howzit?” He looks genuinely surprised to see her, too.

“Good...” She returns his bright grin with a shy smile of her own. She tucks a lock of loose hair behind her ear. “I’m heading to the cannery.”

“You working cannery, too?”

“Yeah...are you?”

“Yup. Gotta make dat extra nickel, yeah?” He smiles disarmingly as she nods, and he takes a seat. 

She wants to relax. But she can’t.

Because it’s him. All 5 feet 9 inches of beautiful boy sitting in front of her on a relatively empty bus. He’s taller than the average local Japanese, due to his hapa blood. And as if height wasn’t enough to make him attractive to all the girls, he’s funny. And clever. Athletic and nice. A little rascal, but that only increases his charm. She has so much adrenaline pumping through her from that one tiny conversation, she knows she’ll be exhausted before they even get to Honolulu Harbor.

  
  
  


The forewoman, a middle-aged Portuguese lady, takes her and another girl named Tenten to the lockers. “Wear dis.” She passes them a white apron and hairnet. “You girls get gloves?”

They both nod, pulling out their plastic gloves, required in the job description.

The lady glances at the gloves, bored expression unchanging. “Follow.”

Hinata tucks all of her hair up into the net, and she knows she probably looks like an enoki mushroom, dressed now all in white.

They follow the forewoman to the assembly floor.

“Here.” She hands them knives with the same carelessness of someone who’s been doing this for ages. “Take all da extra skin off cuz da machine no get ‘m all, look, but gotta do ‘m fas’ kine ah. No let da pines go down widdout cleaning ‘m,” she explains, pointing and waving at the conveyor belt. 

Hinata nods. Four girls stand silently before a machine that’s spitting out bright yellow, skinned pineapples. They grab at them quickly, and then with practiced flicks of their wrist, they nick off the remaining bits into slots for the rubbish. They put the pineapples back down on the belt, where the fruit runs along to another set of girls, who give them another checkover. Further down, the fruit runs into a machine with circling blades that chop them into slices. 

Rows and rows of young women dressed in white aprons with mushroom-netted heads stand around conveyors and machines. 

Young men cross over the upper ladders and walkways carrying pineapples to dump into the machines and sticks to poke at the fruit in the chutes to prevent jamming. 

The smell of pineapples is pervasive, sickly in its sweetness.

Not too much later, a bell shrills throughout the warehouse, and she’s taking over for a girl who’s now off-duty. She grabs at the pineapples, turning the weighty fruit over in her palm and cutting brown spots of skin off with the knife as quickly as she can. Droplets of pineapple juice stick to her gloves, and soon enough, the juice is dripping down the latex.

She’s not thankful for the gloves for long.

The juice runs down, and every stretch of her arm to grab at the fruit or place it back down feels sticky in the crook of her elbow.

Minutes turn into hours of watching pineapples.

She has no idea how the world eats so many pineapples. 

How is it possible that people love pineapples this much? That the machinery is rarely turned off? That all of the state’s teenagers are employed every summer to work the fields and machines practically 24/7? 

As unfathomable as it is, she finds a strange awe for the tropical fruit that she never had before. To pass the time as she trims the skin, she imagines where these pineapples are going. Who’s going to buy these pineapples. What country they’ll end up in and what language the people speak there. And whether they have ever seen a whole pineapple before.

But then again, maybe they’re all just going to the Mainland. Women who look like the movie stars with perfectly curled, blonde hair will open the cans for their families.

The bell rings, the machines stop.

They have 30 minutes.

The more veteran workers zip off to the lunchroom, not waiting for anyone.

Hinata smiles tiredly at Tenten. 

“Whew,” the Chinese girl sighs.

Hinata nods in agreement. “I never seen so many pineapples before, I think.” 

“Yeah, me, neither.” Her brows raise to emphasize the point.

By the time they get off at 6 in the morning, dawn is breaking, traffic is slowly building along Nimitz Highway, and she knows she must absolutely _stink_ of pineapples.

But Naruto waves and stands beside her as they wait for the bus, as if he doesn’t care. Maybe he can’t smell her, desensitized now after so long in the warehouse. “Morning, Hinata,” he laughs, and the joke is not lost on her. 

She smiles weakly, only his good attitude motivating her. “Good morning,” she manages to reply. She’s too exhausted to feel shy about standing beside her crush. After all, she was standing for the last several hours. All she wants is to sit down.

“How wuz it?” he asks conversationally.

She pinches her lips into a tight frown. “I had to trim the pines at the ginaca.” She gestures halfheartedly with her hands, showing him the flick of an imaginary knife she used. All night. She’s almost certain that _she’s_ the machine now. “What did you do?”

“Oh, wuz pretty neat! I jus’ had to keep da cans moving on da belt an’ stick da lids inside da kine, machine, and then the cans pop out. I did da tops.”

She blinks at him. Forces a weak smile out that she barely feels in her heart. _Sounds easy…_ But that’s to be expected, after all, women usually handle food anyway.

“No can wait fo’ sit down, yeah!” he laughs. He doesn’t sound tired, but it occurs to her that maybe he never does. His natural excitement is what makes him popular in the first place.

She nods.

When the bus pulls up to the curb, Naruto lets her get on in front of him.

The bus driver pulls a face as she pays.

She frowns, a hot blush spreading over her cheeks. She tried to clean up as best she could after her shift, but apparently, it really was all for naught.

“Go in da back!” the driver directs, none too friendly.

She does so, even though the front seats aren’t full.

Naruto laughs outright as he pays, unashamed at his own stink. “What, uncle, wen try fo’ wash off, still stay pilau?”

“Eesh,” the driver utters in response to the teen’s cheekiness.

She doesn’t know how he’s not embarrassed, nor how he’s able to talk back to strangers like it’s nothing. It’s just another case in point of her admiration and curiosity of him. She picks an aisle-facing seat, and, to her surprise, Naruto sits _right next_ to her, his knees spreading open.

She’s not as tired as she thought.

Nerves race up her legs. She stares at her hands, which she carefully places on her knees, which are closely pressed together as ladylike as possible. Not a single part of her touches him. She thinks she might die if their legs touch.

And that’s how she doesn’t doze off on the long ride back home.

He meant to brag to his friends about working graveyard shift when he saw them that first weekend. Sure, the hours are junk, but, _Ho, should see da chicks!_

Particularly the one he rides the bus with. Hinata Hyuuga. A small, Japanese girl. Brains and looks. Not to mention her unusual, light eyes, making you question her race. But, _nah_ , no real question about it, she’s Japanese through and through with her shy, quiet manner. She’s someone he imagines could win the Cherry Blossom Festival pageant with her smooth skin and round eyes. He and the guys always steal a poster of the new year’s contestants from the supermarket window. Pictures of pretty Japanese girls’ profiles all lined up, free to admire. She could definitely win. If she ever tried. But she’s not very personable.

Not that that ever stopped him from talking to whoever he wants to talk to.

Yet he ended up not mentioning anything about Hinata to his friends. Not the next week, either.

Somehow, she just comes off as out-of-his-league. At least, he’s certain that’s what his friends would say. Just mentioning her would probably earn him jokes. He’s pretty sure she’s in all the high, smart classes. But he doesn’t know much about that--and she’s a year younger than him. He only knows her because his social club had a gathering with hers last year, invited by Sakura. There’re lots of pretty girls in that social club, and, unusually, it has girls over two grade levels. Just the younger girls didn’t catch his attention last year.

Needless to say, he’s thinking about her now.

Not much else to think about while he drops lids into the machine. It’s monotonous work, but he knows now that his job is _way_ , _way_ better than Hinata’s.

_-Two weeks ago-_

His jaw dropped when he saw her on the bus the second night.

She had covered her arms self-consciously with her hands when he got on.

Of course, that action was what drew his attention.

Bright. Red. Streaks and bumps. A rash. Mottling her fair skin in the crook of her elbows to the middle of her forearms. Both sides.

“From da pines?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded, her eyes turning down, as if somehow the rash was a personal fault. 

He looked away, realizing his staring was only making her feel worse. “You have da kine..sensitive skin?” He wondered belatedly if talking about it would only make her feel worse _worse_.

“Umm...yeah…” Her voice sounded even quieter than her usual.

He frowned awkwardly, though she didn’t see it. He sat down beside her, still looking away. “Jeez. Das real junk.” He swallowed back his strange feeling of guilt. Her pain wasn’t his fault. Her job placement wasn’t his fault. So why did he feel like he was partially responsible...? “Uh, dere anyting fo’ do about it?” He suddenly felt like cringing at the sound of his own pidgin. His heavy speech just further emphasized his upbringing compared to hers. Someone classy like her shouldn’t be doing a job like that, right? “‘Cuz like, can only get worse, yeah? You get medicine fo’ put on or someting?” He couldn’t help jabbering on and on. When he starts feeling uncomfortable, that’s just what happens.

Thankfully, she continued the conversation. “Mhm. I saw yesterday some of th’ other workers wuz wearing two gloves.” She opened her purse and pulled out a pair. The hands were cut off. “Like this, see?” She pulled the glove on over her elbow like a sleeve, then pulled another, uncut one on so that they overlapped on her forearm. 

“Ho, neat idea, yeah?” He nodded in approval.

She smiled in response. “The juice no can get inside, I think, yeah?”

“Yeah!” he emphasized.

She smiled a little more, obviously not embarrassed anymore by her arms.

And he felt proud of himself for getting them out of that uncomfortable start to the bus ride. Felt oddly self-satisfied that he got her to smile. Decided right then and there that he was pretty interested in her.

But he hasn’t really made a move, yet. The thought that she might turn him down is there. He’s been turned down enough times that rejection isn’t really what’s bugging him. It’s that she never seems to be in a good mood after their shift is done. That, and he doesn’t want it to be uncomfortable for the rest of the summer in case she _does_ reject him. He would still have to catch the bus with her every night and morning. Too bad his dad doesn’t let him take the car to work. He gets it, though. His dad needs the car to go to work.

Well, he’ll figure it out later.

The bell screams, signaling the start of their lunch break.

He joins a group of Farrington guys he befriended over the course of the two weeks. There’re a lot of them working at the cannery, being that the high school is only a neighborhood away from the warehouse district.

“Eh, Naruto, you surf?” Omoi, a dark-skinned Filipino boy with sun-bleached ehu hair, asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, excitement bubbling. But only on the weekends with Shikamaru and Choji. He lives central, not at all close to the ocean, making beach trips longer than ideal. “Why, whatchu thinking?”

A guy they call “C,” Naruto has no idea what it’s short for, leans forward. “We go dawn patrol, Kewalo’s.”

Right after their shift, at the surf break at Kewalo Basin. Sounds solid. “Eh, shoots, we go! Tomorrow den?”

“Yeah,” Omoi affirms. “Prolly gon wash da pine stink off, yeah?”

C’s eyes widen at Omoi’s shoes, shaking his head. “Eh, brah, I no tink so, you dripping pines ova hea, bet yo feet kill, phew!”

“You faka, you no can talk, da flies stay all buzzin’ ‘round you!” Omoi shoots back.

Naruto frowns, considering that Hinata has the same job as Omoi, one of the few guys assigned to a woman’s job. Over the course of the job, Omoi’s shoes had soaked in pineapple juice that dripped from the cutting. This didn’t seem to be as big a problem for Hinata, who, for some girly reason, wore sandals despite the long hours of standing. “How come you no jus’ wea rubbah slippahs?”

Omoi shook his head with a serious expression. “No can fo’ do dat brah. I only get one good pair! Already wen ruin deez shoes, no sense ruin my slippahs too.”

“Dis broke faka ova hea, he no get money fo’ buy one noddah pair from Long’s das why!” C laughs.

Naruto shakes his head, laughing out loud. “No way you dat broke!”

Omoi turns to C, faux annoyance twisting his face. “Eh dis haole ri’ hea like get lickins?”

Instead of looking threatened, C just humorously shoots back, “You like go, we go!”

“Go den, shoots we go,” Omoi answers, squaring up.

“Yeah den go cuz, shoots,” C threatens back.

But neither of them stand.

Naruto rolls his eyes at their idiotic banter. Rarely is _he_ the voice of reasoning, but he supposes it would be a different story if his school friends were here. “Eh we go _Kewalo’s_ shoots.”

They turn back to him, huge grins on. “Yeah, we go!” Omoi says enthusiastically.

“Bring your board yeah?” C reminds him as the bell rings again.

“Yeah!”

He tells Hinata that he can’t go back with her the next day, and she just nods and smiles. Tells him to have fun.

And it’s a slight relief to not worry about the ride back home with her. He’s starting to feel like maybe she’s expecting him to ask her out since they spend so much time together. Well, really, he’s expecting that of himself, but he just can’t right now.

She’s just not any other girl at school in these current circumstances.

  
  
  


Hinata never meant to be one of _those_ girls.

One of _those_ girls, picked up on a stretcher and taken to the medical room to recuperate.

But on the first day of her period, she was _exactly one of those_ girls.

She was feeling so tired. Legs like jelly. Sore up her thighs. Aches digging around her lower back. A weighty twisting in her core. A heavy day. It made her feel lightheaded.

The pineapples, one after another, going by, making her feel a little dizzy, like maybe she needed to close her eyes.

Shutting her eyes for a second didn’t help.

A breath, two breaths, intentional breaths.

She felt like maybe she was going to make herself start hyperventilating, the opposite of what she wanted. She wanted to breathe normally.

Focus on the pineapple.

It felt too heavy in her hand.

Her focus sliding off the pineapple, to the sticky yellow glint of the knife. Back to the pineapple.

She looked up, dazed, her eyes taking too long to adjust to a point on the far wall.

“Hinata, you alright?” Tenten asked.

She tried to refocus on the girl on the opposite side of her. She nodded, blinking, trying to concentrate on their job.

“You don’t look alright.” Her voice was too loud, like everything else going on.

Too loud, pounding.

She closed her eyes, heat searing her temples.

“-nata? Hinata?”

She slowly gains consciousness, to find Naruto looking down at her.

“You okay? You wen faint dey said.”

“Oh,” she manages to utter, trying to get her bearings as the room and bed take shape in her mind, blinking away the dazed vestiges of sleep. “W-what time is it?”

“Our shift only pau now.”

“Oh.”

“You feeling okay?”

She slowly sits up, nodding. “Yeah.” She must not have been out for that long. She really thought she would make it to the end of the night. “Were you waiting for me?” she asks, suddenly panicked at the realization that _he_ is here with her.

“Ah, nah, nah. I come in jus’ now.” He gestures at the door. “You weren’ out dere, so I jus’ wen ask somebahdy and you wuz in hea dey said.”

“Oh.” That’s good that he wasn’t waiting for her to wake up, but, still, she never expected him to do something like this. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs. “No problem. Ready fo’ go? Can walk or..?”

She nods, scooching off the bed-like table.

And he walks with her to check-out with one of the heads, and then back to the bus stop. Waits with her there. And when it’s obvious that he’s going back with her despite the longboard he’s been holding this whole time, she haltingly brings it up. “You not...going surfing?”

He shakes his head carelessly. “Nah, I go tomorrow.”

She ducks her head, biting her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, nah, waves not hitting today, so.” He shrugs, looking past her for the bus.

Obviously an outright lie, but she accepts it over drawing out such an uncomfortable situation.

“You no feel good today?” He sounds honestly concerned.

“Um, I felt fine earlier.” Well, in truth, she felt _okay_. The _normal_ period cramps. As okay as a heavy day can be.

“You not sick?”

She shakes her head. She wants to sit down. The bench has the older workers sitting down, so she never gets to sit until the bus comes. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to relieve the weight from her hips and pelvis.

It’s such a relief when the bus comes. She ignores the bus driver’s daily grimace and makes for the back row as quickly as she can.

He watches her sit down, audibly sigh, and her whole body kind of just melts into the stiff chair. It’s obvious that out of all the days so far, she’s the most tired today.

Or has she been like this? He just didn’t know because he’s been avoiding her in the mornings?

Ten minutes into the long ride, he’s thinking that it’s a good thing he’s going home with her today because…he thinks she’s falling asleep. Her head keeps jerking in his peripheral vision, so he decides to stop being considerate and turn to look straight at her.

Her eyes are drooping heavily, she’s blinking really hard...she _is_ falling asleep. Or, trying really hard not to.

“Hinata.”

“Huh?” Her eyes fly wide open, obviously forcing herself.

“Sleep, I go wake you up later.”

Her cheeks redden. “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t trust him, or…what? She’s embarrassed?

“You sure?”

She nods. “Yeah.” Her voice sounds too breathy to be fine, but if she says so...

It’s no surprise to him when her body starts slumping over, her head weighing the rest of her body down and toward the seats in front of them.

She’d be even more embarrassed about this position, right? So he reaches over to grab both her shoulders and kind of push her back upright.

Well, that’s what he meant to do.

Her eyes open as if spooked, and she straightens out of his hands. “Sorry!” she gasps. Expression all pinched, she looks like she feels really ashamed.

About what, though? If anything, he feels bad about how tired she is. “No,” he reassures. “No worry ‘bout me.” He’s trying his best to sound comforting… “Should get some rest, s’okay, I go wake you up befo’ my stop. Trus’ me.”

Her eyes squint, like she’s straining to focus. “...maybe. But I don’t like sleep..on da bus.”

He can’t help a laugh. “Ha, you look like you goin’ give yourself da kine whiplash back-an-for'-li’ dat, jus’ relax.”

“Mm…” A noncommittal answer, but one that doesn’t argue, so he can’t push the issue any further, either.

They settle back into the sound of the engine roaring along the highway, and pretty soon, her body’s starting to lean over again. He refrains from helping her, even though she looks uncomfortable.

She looks like she’s going to wake up with a sore neck. Her blood’s probably rushing to her head in that position. That’s not good, right? She literally just had a fainting spell not too long ago. So having her head lean against the rattling window pane wouldn’t be ideal, either. Since they’re sitting at the back, she might really conk her head hard if the bus has to stop.

With more care than the first time, he tries to guide her to lean against him.

For a moment, her eyelids and brows wiggle and bunch up, but swiftly return to their placid state.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

He should ask her out. She doesn’t ignore him or outwardly show any disinterest, so…sometime he’ll do it. Just of course not today.

When he sees that he’s getting close to his stop, he calls her name, “Hinata. Hinata.”

“Mm.” She sits up and blinks, a hand hurriedly wiping her mouth.

Drool? He’s trying not to smile like a goofball, but kind of failing at hiding his selfish amusement. “I gotta get off now. You gon’ be okay?”

She nods, making eye contact for a second, only for her gaze to immediately skitter away to some unknown point on the bus floor.

“‘Kay, you take care, yeah?”

She nods again, still refusing to look at him, her hands busy everywhere touching her face and then her hair, fixing who-knows-what. She murmurs something.

“Huh?” he asks in a knee-jerk reaction before his brain pieces together that it sounded like an apology. “Oh, no need say dat.” He reaches over to pull the cord for his stop and grins. “Maybe I see you tomorrow, yeah?”

She nods, glances up at him for a second, and looks down once more.

He gets off the bus feeling pretty good about himself in the bright morning sun.

Only to realize--

Maybe he should have made sure she got home all the way.

Maybe he should have gotten off at her stop with her.

The library isn’t really that far a walk back to his own home.

…

She’s probably fine, right?

She wouldn’t have fallen asleep again, right?

Why did she _faint_ anyway?

Should he have asked more?

His consciousness won’t let up. He could call, but if he calls, then he really probably will need to ask her out eventually. Well, he plans on it anyway, but if he calls, then that would really solidify things, and she’d expect something from him by, like, tomorrow. 

Well, that’s all hypothetical. If he can even find her name in the phonebook...

...He finds it.

“Who you calling?” his mom asks, teasing him, as she pops up beside him in the kitchen. “Noddah one of your girlfriends?”

“...No…”

“Ohh, you asking a girl out? Why you no jus’ call her? She goin’ turn you down, ah!” she laughs, all by herself. “Who like go out wit you, ah?” Her laughter rings throughout the house.

He wishes he could yell at her to shut up, but then she’d go get the slipper and give him some serious dirty lickins.

So he keeps his eyes on the phonebook, and with his mom’s derision motivating him, picks up the receiver and hooks his finger into the first digit, gaining self-confidence with each pull, release, and spin of the dial.

If it’s the parents, then that’s fine. He’ll make a good impression. Maybe. He doesn’t need to talk to Hinata, he just wants the family to know that she fainted. He gets the feeling Hinata’s not the type to talk about things like that to her family.

But then...maybe the cannery already called them about it.

The dial tone ends.

He takes a readying breath. “...Hello?”

“Hello?” It’s a young girl’s voice.

“Is this Hinata’s house?” he continues, desperately trying to imitate a school valedictorian or maybe a teacher...

“...Yeah...Who’s this?”

“This is Naruto...I, uh, work same place, at da cannery.”

“...She’s not home, yet. And she’s not supposed to talk to boys.”

 _What? She in dat social club I tought?_ “Well, I no need talk to her. I jus’ like you guys know that, uh, she wen fainted at work, yeah.”

“...”

“...So, she should be home soon, I get off da bus a little befo’ her, I jus’ like try check she gets home okay..yeah..”

“...Okay.” In the background, he hears a faint voice talking before the girl on the line continues, “It’s a boy.”

“Huh?”

“He’s saying Hinata fainted at work. And that she should be home soon.”

He realizes she’s talking to someone else, so he awkwardly waits.

“Okay, ...uhhmm...” Her voice trails out for a solid second.

 _She talking to me now?_ “Oh, yeah?”

“Thank you, I’m gonna go meet her. Bye.”

“Oh-” The line cuts, his own goodbye stuck in his throat. He places the receiver back down, uncertain what to make of that whole exchange, wondering what about it left him dissatisfied. He did what he meant to do, after all... That must have been a younger sister.

“Hinata? You neva talk 'bout her befo’,” his mom observes as she gathers her things for work. “You wen meet at da cannery?”

“No, she one year youngah dan me at sku’.”

“She wen faint? Why you neva walk her back home, ah?!”

“I no tink dat until aftah!” he defends. “Das why I wen call!”

“You no can get one decent girlfriend acting li’dat, ah!, dis stupid son of mine, ahh, ah, if you jus’ focus on sku’ mo’, get bettah grades, get mo’ smartah, ah,” his mom tuts and laments off on a tangent, and he ignores her.

He sees her off for work at the door, his mind turning back to whether he needs to ask Hinata out tomorrow. Especially since, _“She’s not supposed to talk to boys.”_ What’s that about?

* * *

He never does find out. There’s no way he could ask such a question, and the summer passes too fast for him to face her plainly. He’s not sure why, but whenever he imagines her turning him down, the idea hurts a lot more than it should.

Logically, he knows itʻs just a yes or no answer. He’s been turned down here and there. He’s gone on numerous dates, danced with girls, and played silly social games with the opposite sex at parties. And concerning Hinata, she’s a year younger than him, so the chances of seeing her on campus are a lot smaller, so he wouldn’t have to face her that often if she does turn him down.

So why can’t he just ask her out?

She held out hope.

She thanked him profusely the day after, and he was extremely nice to her. He went back on the bus with her for that entire following week's shifts, making sure she was okay, before he determined that she was safe enough without him.

He went back to surfing in the mornings.

The day of their last shift, she held out _so much hope_.

He didn’t ask her out.

So she tries to shrug it off.

The disappointment.

The deep, far too deep, disappointment. She’s probably just not his type.

But to her surprise, that’s not the last time she sees him before school starts.

Their social clubs host a joint car wash to raise money.

She pushes down her shy feelings, knowing that if he has absolutely no interest in dating her, then there’s really no reason for her to act strangely around him. It would simply be rude of her to ignore him after spending all summer the way they did on the bus together. Gathering her courage, she walks up to him and calls out his name, “Naruto! Hi!” She smiles, hoping to appear as cheerful as possible.

“Oh!” He turns from his friends, already knowing whose voice it was, but still caught off-guard.

She’s dressed really casually--in shorts, a shirt, and rubber slippers, obviously appropriate for the day’s work, but still strange to see on her. He somehow thought maybe she didn’t own casual clothes like that.

“Hinata! Hi!” he responds, a little belatedly. He feels really stupid, somehow his grin feels unnatural, too tense. He watches her smile again and then turn back to her friends.

Something gnaws at his consciousness, like he missed out on saying or doing something he should have done in that moment. Ask her how she’s been in the past week? He just saw her not too long ago, so that would be dumb to ask.

“Who's dat again?”

He blinks out of his stare and turns to Sasuke.

“Hinata. Hinata Hyuuga. We bo’ wen work night shift at da cannery.”

“You ask her out?”

“...No, nah yet…” he admits, nerves crawling around, making him feel guilty out of nowhere.

Sasuke raises a brow. “You like her?”

He shrugs his shoulders, frowning, trying to play off the intrusive question as nothing to him. “...Yeah…”

Now both of Sasuke’s brows are raised.

Naruto shifts uncomfortably. Every single second here is making him realize he should’ve gotten the deed done and over with already. Now she’s around all of his fellow club members. Any one of the other guys could ask her out by the end of the day.

She could take a liking to one of his friends. He realizes that his chances were so much higher when it was just the two of them.

She and Sakura walk around helping to pass out sponges and buckets. They introduce themselves to several boys, all of them very friendly.

Hinata herself feels very friendly. After her act of courage in facing Naruto, after getting that difficult exchange done with, she feels pretty bold.

She’s in this social club to have fun! She won’t let a little one-sided crush damper her day!

True that none of the other guys are as naturally magnetic as Naruto, but she knows that first impressions aren’t everything. All of these guys in his social club seem perfectly nice, helping to fill and carry the heavy buckets of water for the girls.

She sets to work on a car, excitedly engaging in discussions about the new school year with whoever works beside her. And with an observant eye, she manages to not work on the same side of a car as Naruto.

Two hours pass in laughter and good spirits, even with how the noonday sun beats down, pouring heat over the asphalt lot.

The once cool water comes out hot from the hose, and the buckets are just puddles of liquid sun she has to dunk her hand and sponge into as infrequently as possible.

The constant bending is nothing to her, though. After a whole summer of cannery work on her feet, she’s pretty sure she’s more fit than last year. She’s not even sweating as much as she thought she would.

Until she gets up too fast.

Her head sears hot, her vision darkening into pinpoints of bright light.

She tries to squint, to see through the sudden tunnels of black, but her eyes burn, and just as quickly, she feels off-balance, her head too heavy to hold up.

She crouches down, face in her hands, confused and pained.

“Hinata, you okay?” Sakura, most likely.

“I can’t see.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see,” she repeats, trying to stay calm despite the painful splotches of color beneath her eye lids. “It hurts.” And she feels like she’s going to pass out, but she refuses to embarrass herself like that in front of everyone.

“Oh my gosh… Water. Water!” Sakura says louder.

“Wut’s wrong!” Another voice.

 _Oh no_ , not _that_ voice.

“She’s dehydrated I think!”

“Oh shit,” he _curses_.

Hinata sits as still as possible, focusing on not tipping over into a ball and fainting right there on the dirty, poky ground. Not again.

“Here, water,” Sakura says, her voice stressed and concerned. “Can you raise your head?”

“Mm.” She slowly lifts her face and opens her mouth.

A plastic water bottle is placed at her lips, lukewarm liquid flowing onto her tongue. She drinks it dutifully, the pain in her head clearing rather quickly.

She eventually pushes the water bottle away and wipes her lips on the back of her hand. “Thank you,” she breathes out, relieved that her head’s weight is starting to feel normal again. But she keeps her eyes closed, too afraid to strain her vision. Or to see if she attracted everyone’s attention...or to find out if Naruto is still there.

“Do you feel better?” Sakura asks, still sounding way more worried than necessary.

“Yeah, thank you, Sakura.”

“Can you see?”

“I don’t know…” She doesn’t want to test herself too soon, but she cracks her eyes open, if only to assure Sakura that she’s okay.

The world is a bright fog through the slight cracks of her eyelids.

But it doesn’t hurt.

“I’ll be able to see fine in a minute, I think.”

Sakura sighs in relief. “Good.”

A random boy whose deep voice she doesn’t recognize asks what happened.

“She dehydrated,” Naruto answers.

Hinata doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or dreadfully embarrassed that he’s still there.

“Oh, das not good,” the other boy assesses.

“Yeah…” Naruto agrees.

“I’ll be fine in a moment!” Hinata pipes up, her personality automatically choosing to feel embarrassed.

The unknown guy makes a sound of uncertainty.

“Yeah, Hinata,” Sakura adds on. “I don’t think you should help out right away. You could’ve gotten heatstroke.”

“Heatstroke?” she asks.

“Dere’s no shade ‘round hea,” Naruto comments.

Hinata slowly forces her eyes to adjust, hoping to prove them all wrong. “I can see. I’m fine.” She starts to get up carefully.

More sounds of uncertainty resound behind her, and she hates how all three of them are treating her like she could collapse at any moment.

Like, even if she _could_ collapse at any moment, even if that _is_ what just happened, she doesn’t want this to be how everyone sees her from now on. Like some weak, stupid girl who forgets to drink water on a hot day.

Even if that _is_ what she is.

“I can take her home.” Naruto’s invitation has her finally turning around to face her audience.

To her relief, it’s just the three of them, Sakura, Naruto, and a pretty, black-haired Japanese boy she’s seen him hanging out with.

“Yeah, take her home,” the pretty boy says. He claps Naruto’s arm.

Naruto gives some kind of smile that’s really cute, and Hinata has to force herself to try not to examine anything he’s said or done in the past five minutes.

He made her over-examine his behavior all summer, only for it to amount to nothing. He’s just really nice and treats her like a good friend. That’s all.

Sakura helps her walk to his car.

And all too soon, she’s sitting right next to him.

Naruto starts up the engine, blasting the AC so that cool air roars onto their heated faces.

“I’m sorry.” She gulps down a knot of discomfort in her throat, already regretting so much.

“Nah, no need say dat.” His stomach feels sore, his legs antsy. He was trying to nonchalantly work on the cars by her, but somehow, he wonders if she was avoiding him.

She’s too nice to do that, right? She never tried to avoid him at their summer job…

He needs to gauge her interest in him. So after he backs out of the parking space and safely makes it into traffic, he ventures conversation. “How you feeling now?”

She nods. “I feel better. I could’ve stayed, I think…”

“...Oh…” He’s already on Moanalua Home Road, and turning around now would be humbug. “Are you sure?”

“Mm…” She’s not sure. She just doesn’t want to seem so frail.

“‘S'okay, ya know? Already get plenny help, das why, no need chance 'm.”

“Mm...okay… Thank you...I’m sorry…”

With conversation finding its natural, quick end, he finds himself wracking his brain for ideas. He has about five more minutes with her before they get to her house. _I should ask her out...I should just ask her...just ask her…_

“Oh, I like this song.”

“Hm?” He turns the radio up, glad to focus on something outside of his brain. “Oh, yeah!”

It’s a newish one by Cecilio and Kapono, one he imagines will be really popular at social club dances, the slow tempo is perfect.

Not knowing what else to do to fill the silence, she starts singing softly. She can tell he’s glancing at her, but she keeps her eyes fixed determinedly forward, her gut turning to jelly as the romantic meaning registers in her mind. “...Our small moment that we shared, Is only yours and mine, No one else is really going to know, That I care about you…”

His cheeks flush. This song really _is_ perfect for a social club dance. He never paid that much attention to the lyrics, but with her soft voice singing them, the words are suddenly resonating, hitting a little too close-to-home.

“And all the questions that I asked myself about you…”

He's made up his mind. He’s going to ask her out.

“Won’t you come and be with me…”

Right after this song.

“That if you come and stay you’re going to see, That I care about you.”

He relaxes into his seat, his grasp, unintentionally tight on the wheel, relaxes, too. If she's comfortable enough to sing in his presence, then there's nothing stopping him from feeling comfortable, too. It's actually really nice to know that she's willing to do something like this with him. He's stressed out for nothing. He's hesitating for nothing. And maybe, if things work out, this feeling...this moment...would be normal...

She peeks at him, and...he’s smiling. He’s not teasing, laughing, or grimacing at her. So she continues singing, relieved.

When the song finishes, he lowers the volume, reassured, readier than ever. “Hinata…”

She blinks, realizing they’re really close to her house, and Naruto doesn't know where to go. “Oh! You turn left at the intersection after this light.”

Jarred to the present, he suddenly notices his heart racing, despite how calm he felt not even ten seconds ago. The words get lost on his tongue, and he simply follows her instructions, the opportune moment evaporating into nothing.

“It’s that house,” she points, and he slows, pulling over against the curb.

She turns to him to give her appreciation properly.

But he’s facing directly toward her, his usually cheerful expression one of uncharacteristic focus.

Her heart leaps into her throat.

“Hinata," he repeats. "You like, go movies with me, sometime?”

She nods, speechless, because yes, _yes_ , _yes_.

And he visibly relaxes. He can breathe again. Her agreement was so much easier than he thought it would be. “I go check da listings den, okay? And I’ll call you?”

She nods, eyes growing wide as everything starts to sink in.

He nods, too, an embarrassed smile working at his mouth. “Talk to you later den, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, a smile forming in reaction. In a fog of happiness, she steps out of the car, nearly forgetting. “Oh, thank you for taking me home!”

He nods, thinking that this won't be the last time he makes sure she gets home. He notices how her happy smile lights up her eyes like earlier at the carwash, but now, it’s directed at him, him only. And once she disappears into her house, more than anything, he feels incredible relief.

And excitement.

He gets the feeling…

She gets the feeling…

This is going to last.

**Author's Note:**

> Cultural & Historical Notes:  
> ["About You" by Cecilio & Kapono (1975)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnxSxYwBvN8)
> 
> [Sh*t People From Hawaii Say by NigaHiga, HigaTV](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUj5t4YevDs) \- comedy pidgin, it's a pretty good example of modern speech and accent.
> 
> 1970s high schoolers formed "social clubs" with their friends as a way to socialize with the opposite sex in a controlled and safe environment. They had special club names, weekend parties at each other's houses or recreation center, and calling cards. Many clubs had advisors and/or were associated with the YMCA/YWCA or neighborhood rec center.
> 
> Hawaiian Pidgin mainly evolved from English, Hawaiian, Portuguese, Japanese, Cantonese, among others, from interactions on the sugarcane plantation. Vocabulary usage can vary among ethnic groups. The pidgin my friends and family speak has similarities to Japanese colloquial grammar structure, like flipping placement of adjectives and subjects, and often ending sentences with "ah" (old Pidgin) / "yeah" (ね), "das why" (だから/からです), "I think (tink)" (と思う), etc.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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